


Christmas Eve and the Kisses Four

by violetclarity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Hugo Weasley/Scorpius Malfoy, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Chubby Draco Malfoy, Community: hd_owlpost, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Gift Fic, H/D Owlpost Holiday Fest, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Meddling Kids, Miscommunication, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 07:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16635362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetclarity/pseuds/violetclarity
Summary: Draco was determined to ignore Harry and have a good time at this Christmas Eve party, but with enchanted mistletoe in the mix, that was easier said than done.





	Christmas Eve and the Kisses Four

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMightyFlynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyFlynn/gifts).



> To **themightyflynn,** happy holidays! I was primarily inspired by your prompt of _getting caught in an embarrassing situation on Christmas Eve_ as well as a few of your other likes - I hope you enjoy the story that is the result :)  
> Many thanks to **nifflers-n-nargles** for alpha-reading and **aibidil** for beta-reading, and to the mods for organizing this wonderful fest!

The Granger-Weasleys’ annual holiday party was an exclusive event. Forget mandatory workplace parties and family suppers – you had to be _invited_ to Ron and Hermione’s for Christmas Eve, where Hogwarts’ best and brightest played pool in the basement while multiple Order of Merlin recipients mingled upstairs. Draco knew he owed his invitation to the fact that he was Scorpius’s father and Scorpius was dating Hugo, but he still intended to make a good impression, despite the attendance of a certain famous wizard who’d never owled after their first date.

He shifted the bottle of wine to his other hand, tugged down the hem of his jumper, and knocked on the door. The wreath on it was classic, holly with red berries, dusted with charmed snow. Through the window he could see that the sills inside were decorated the same, and a good-sized crowd was mingling in the sitting room. Draco hoped he’d be able to find someone he knew.

The door opened, releasing spice-scented air and the sound of Christmas music, and revealing a smiling Harry Potter. He looked like he’d come straight from work in a crisp white shirt and wool trousers, but he was wearing a necklace of Muggle tree lights and a reindeer antler headband.

It was Draco’s luck, really.

“Draco!” Harry said, gesturing him inside. “You made it.”

“Of course.” He held out the bottle of wine to Harry, who took it with a smile and Banished it to the kitchen.

Harry closed the door and Draco didn’t know what to say. Was he late?

He’d planned to leave almost half an hour before he did, but at the last minute he questioned his dress robes, worrying they’d be too formal. He thought of the way Harry had run his hand down the lapel of Draco’s suit jacket at the end of their maybe-date, but a suit jacket might be too much for an event hosted by Ron Weasley, and he panicked. Eventually he’d settled on an emerald green jumper that he hoped came across as festive rather than Slytherin.

Harry, still silent, blocked the way into the rest of the house. It was awkward. Draco hated it – things between them didn’t used to be this awkward.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Harry said finally. “Can I take your coat?”

Draco slipped it off and handed it over, but when he tried to walk farther into the house, he couldn’t.

“What on earth–?”

Harry looked down at their feet – his, too, were stuck – and then up at the ceiling.

Draco followed his gaze. Mistletoe. _Enchanted_ mistletoe, if his current inability to move was any indication.

“Lily and Rose got in on the decorating this year,” Harry explained, cheeks flushed. “It won’t let us move until we– I mean, do you mind if I…”

“Oh, it’s– it’s fine.. ‘Tis the season,” Draco joked. Great. Trust him to make it sound like he was only tolerating the kiss, when he really did want it to happen – _had_ been wanting it to happen – but not like this.

Harry smiled ruefully and leaned in to kiss him. It was quick and dry – a peck, really – but Draco’s foolish heart didn’t care, pounding away as Harry pulled back and grinned once more before he disappeared down the corridor.

 _For fuck’s sake,_ Draco thought. _Pull yourself together._

He collected a drink from the kitchen and made his way into the sitting room. A huge tree, decorated with floating lights and red baubles, dominated the room. The fireplace had been enlarged, and Draco sighed with relief when he saw a familiar blond head to the side of it.

Scorpius caught sight of him and grinned. “Dad!” He hugged Draco, tight but brief, and Draco smiled. He often doubted his parenting skills, but the fact that his son, even at nineteen, was comfortable hugging him in public was a sure sign that he had done something better than his own father.

“Rose thought you weren’t going to come,” Scorpius said, folding his arms with a mock glare. His face couldn’t hold harsh expressions, though, and quickly relaxed into a grin.

Draco raised an eyebrow. His arrival might have been a little later than planned due to the last-minute wardrobe crisis, but he didn’t need the elder Granger-Weasley commenting on his tardiness.

“I was held up at work,” he lied, plucking at the sleeve of his jumper.

“I figured it was probably something like that,” Scorpius said. “Or else you’d decided you were afraid of facing Mr Potter after–”

“Scorpius!” Draco looked around to see if anyone overheard, and his son laughed.

“Relax, no one knows what I’m talking about,” he said, elbowing Draco.

Draco sipped his drink, observing the room. It was mulled wine, and good wine at that. “I don’t know how I raised a son who’s such a nuisance.”

That made Scorpius laugh as well. “Did Mr Potter let you in?” he asked, further proving Draco’s point.

“Yes,” Draco admitted. Scorpius grinned widely, ready to crow, but Draco cut him off. “It doesn’t mean anything. He was being a good host.”

“At this party that he’s not hosting?” Scorpius rolled his eyes. “Hey, aren’t the decorations fantastic?”

“What are you– oh, Hugo. Hello.”

Hugo threw an arm over Scorpius’s shoulders as Scorpius’s wound around his waist.

“The decorations really are lovely. Your parents outdid themselves,” Draco continued.

“Thanks. I think it was mostly Rose and Lily, this year – Mum and Dad let them go a bit wild.” He turned to Scorpius. “Speaking of, Scor, you have to come see what Lily’s done with the tinsel downstairs, it’s hilarious.”

Scorpius glanced at Draco, expression torn, though it was unclear if he was worried about Draco’s comfort or if he wanted to interrogate him more. Draco waved him off. “We can catch up later. Go see this tinsel.”

They were gone in a flash, deftly weaving their way through the crowded room, and Draco sighed.

He was happy that Scorpius was happy – he’d never wanted anything else. He was glad that his son and his boyfriend had stopped their bad attempts at sneakery and told their families they were dating. But he couldn’t help the slight feeling of loss that came along with it. Ever since his divorce from Astoria, he’d grown used to being Scorpius’s main source of support, and even though he knew it was good for Scorpius to have others he could rely on, it made Draco feel lonely – probably because he, himself, didn’t have anyone else.

What did Draco have? He’d been on one date in the past six months, and well – that hadn’t gone as he’d hoped.

“Are you liking the wine?”

Draco glanced up at Harry, startled.

He nodded. “It’s very good.”

Harry hummed his agreement, taking a sip, and fuck, how did he manage to make something as mundane as drinking out of a mug so goddamn sexy? Draco really needed to pencil off an evening for throwing on a Glamour and going to a club, because it couldn’t be healthy for him to be so fixated on Harry Potter’s throat.

“It’s Ron’s secret recipe,” Harry said. “Every year I beg him to teach me how to make it, but no such luck.” He pouted.

Draco laughed. “Poor you.”

“He only makes it once a year!” Harry exclaimed. “It’s a true tragedy.”

“Maybe he’d give it to me, seeing as how I might end up family.” Draco watched Harry from the corner of his eye, experiencing a moment of panic that his words might come off as rude – Harry’d been part of the family, after all, before his divorce from Ginny – but Harry only rolled his eyes.

“You’re underestimating Ron’s pride in the recipe, I think.” Harry nudged Draco’s shoulder with his own. “How are Scorpius and Hugo doing, anyway?”

“They seem happy. Scorpius is happy.” Draco smiled. “I’m just glad he finally told me who it was – he wasn’t being as sneaky as he thought.”

“Kids never are,” Harry laughed.

They each sipped their wine. The silence stretched out, and the awkwardness with it; Draco wondered why Harry was even talking to him, in this room full of his friends and family. If he had wanted to talk to Draco, there had been plenty of time in the weeks since their date – time to Floo or send an owl, or stop by the hospital. Harry’d done none of those things, but now he seemed content, body tilted towards Draco’s as he took another sip of wine and observed the room.

Draco wondered if he could make an escape and go find one of those pink canapes when he was startled by Harry’s hand on his now-empty mug.

“Can I refresh your drink?”

Draco blinked at him. Harry was _so_ close, the green of his eyes too bright. He’d lost the antlers but gained another light-up necklace, and the multicoloured bulbs painted his face in a rainbow of light.

He swallowed. “Yes– thank you.”

Harry grinned and took the mug from his hand, but when he tried to leave, he only made it one step.

Draco looked up. Above their heads twinkled another sprig of enchanted mistletoe. How had he not noticed it earlier?

Harry grimaced. “Ah, sorry–”

“It’s fine,” Draco said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Harry’s mouth, hoping to avoid any awkwardness. But they were still stuck, and Harry murmured something about it needing to be longer and then kissed Draco again, capturing his bottom lip in a kiss that went on for a miniature eternity. It was hot and passionate in a way that Draco’d been craving – it was the kiss he’d wanted to give Harry at the end of their date, but hadn’t.

By the time Harry pulled back, Draco’s cheeks flushed with heat, his breathing shallow.

“I’ll just go...yeah,” Harry said, gesturing towards the kitchen with their mugs. Draco pressed a hand to his hot face, hoping no one in the sitting room noticed their embrace. Was it too early to leave? He hadn’t even been at the party an hour, and Harry was sure to notice if he returned and Draco was gone, yet everything in him wanted to leave before he made an absolute fool of himself because of his inconvenient attraction to one Harry James Potter. It was not something he’d been worried about before arriving, but seeing as how Harry’d already kissed him twice, he had no idea what to expect next.

At one point during the kiss, Draco could’ve sworn his attraction was reciprocated – but what did he know.

~~~

Draco walked into the empty kitchen to deposit his plate and took a minute to enjoy the silence, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck. As soon as Harry left he’d been approached by a St Mungo’s colleague, who’d monopolised his attention all through dinner. Harry hadn’t found him again, and Draco was grateful – he’d stayed through dinner, and would hopefully be able to leave after dessert without offending anyone. If he ignored the kisses, he could even call the evening a success.

Of course, he _couldn’t_ ignore the kisses. Thinking of them made his cheeks burn. It was some unfair trick of the universe’s: that what he’d wanted so badly at the end of that date two weeks ago, he’d gotten now, only it was causing him so much stress.

“Draco.”

The voice was familiar. Of course it was Harry, come to interrupt his private moment, leaning against the counter and looking better than he had any right to.

“Are you alright?”

Draco spun, resting his hip against the counter. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Harry ran a finger along the edge of the worktop. “I don’t know. You’ve been...quiet,” he said. “The last few weeks. I haven’t heard from you.”

“ _You_ haven’t heard from _me_?”

Harry frowned. “I was worried something had happened.”

“I’m very busy, you know,” Draco said. “I work over forty hours a week, I don’t always have time for– you know.” Fed up, he made for the door, but as he pushed past Harry his feet adhered to the floor.

“Not this again!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing, just– this _fucking_ mistletoe…” He trailed off as Harry wrapped an arm around his waist.

Harry’s face fell. “You’re really that upset about it?”

Draco’s mouth dropped open. Wasn’t _Harry_ upset about it?

“No, but – aren’t you–?”

Draco never finished his sentence, because Harry pulled him in and kissed him like something out of a fairy tale. On instinct, his hands went into Harry’s hair, holding him close and angling their mouths so the kiss could go deeper, _deeper._ Harry’s fingers slid under the back of his jumper, making him shiver, and he pushed at Harry, propelling them towards the worktop.

The worktop. They’d moved. They were free from the mistletoe.

Draco wrenched himself away, ending the kiss. Harry was left leaning against the countertop, a dazed expression on his face, eyes very wide and lips very wet.

“That seems to have done it,” Draco gasped. “I should really– um– I need to go.”

~~~

He’d fled – he could admit that. The sight of Harry looking like that, looking at _Draco_ like that, like he _wanted_ him, was too much. It was too close to what Draco dreamed of, and he knew better than to let himself be hopeful. He’d run for the front door and ended up standing on the Granger-Weasleys’ front path without his coat. Their neighbors would probably think he was a lunatic.

He didn’t know how long he’d been out here, but at least there was no fucking mistletoe. Small mercies.

“Dad?”

Scorpius jogged to meet him, arms folded across his chest. “What are you doing out here? I thought you were leaving or something.”

Draco shook his head. “No, I just needed a moment.” He was shaken, but he wasn’t going to divulge that to Scorpius; he’d long resolved not to be the kind of parent who put their problems onto their child. He rubbed his hands over his face. “Was the mistletoe Rose and Lily’s idea, then?”

Scorpius tilted his head. “Yes, but it’s not mistletoe. It’s consentletoe.” At Draco’s confused look, he explained, “It’s a new Wheezes product – they just introduced it this year.”

“Consentletoe?”

“The name’s a bit silly,” Scorpius admitted. “The idea is, traditional enchanted mistletoe, it’ll trap you underneath until you kiss whoever’s there with you, right? But it could be someone you hate, or it could be your best friend’s wife, or what have you. Consentletoe can change locations, so it will go away when you’re around someone you don’t want to kiss, but it’s drawn to you when you’re standing with someone you _do_ want to kiss.” He shrugged. “The one downstairs has been going back and forth between me and Hugo, and Lily and Lorcan, all night.”

“Oh,” Draco exhaled shakily. “That’s clever.”

But that meant – if it only appeared and trapped you in place when you were near someone you wanted to kiss – then that meant that Harry _wanted_ to kiss Draco.

“It is.” Scorpius tucked his hands farther under his arms. “Hey, Dad? If you’re done with this evening stroll, do you mind if we go back inside now? It’s freezing, and there’s going to be pudding soon.”

The pudding _was_ good, though Draco’s attention was across the room, on Harry.

Draco had enjoyed their date two weeks prior. He’d gone to a co-worker for advice on Muggle date traditions, and taken Harry to the cinema and then out to dinner. The restaurant had been in a decidedly non-Wizarding area of London and no one had stared at them all night. For all the people around them knew, they were a long-time couple out on a date night, not two bumbling mid-forties divorcés on the oddest first date in history. They had managed to keep the conversation away from most difficult topics and it had been a lovely time. Harry’d even walked Draco to his doorstep. His only disappointment with the evening had been in that moment, when Draco had thought that Harry was going to kiss him and he didn’t.

He’d been waiting for Harry to Floo him for two long weeks, and nothing. _Nothing._ At first he thought Harry was trying to play it cool. After a few more days, he decided that Harry must be really busy with work. But it had been two whole weeks with no Floo call, no owl, no bespectacled face appearing in his doorway during lunch to ask how his day was going. He’d been expecting to show up this evening and have Harry ignore him, since it was clear Harry had not enjoyed their date as much as Draco had.

He had _not_ been expecting to be forced to kiss Harry multiple times by enchanted mistletoe – enchanted mistletoe which he was now learning had only allowed that to happen because he wanted to kiss Harry and Harry also wanted to kiss him.

It was a lot to wrap his head around.

Especially with Harry making eyes at him over the pudding, licking whipped cream off his spoon in a way that made Draco’s mind go to indecent places. He tried to focus on his conversation with Luna, but as soon as she excused herself to refresh her drink, he dropped his plate on a side table and made a beeline for the loo.

He splashed some water on his face and stared at his reflection. He was attractive for his age, he thought. There were some lines on his face, but no grey yet in his hair. He’d long since come to terms with his body, the way he’d gone soft and round with age, and though he didn’t mind it, he knew others did.

If Harry wanted to continue things with Draco, he was going to have to come out and say so. Maybe he wanted to kiss Draco for the hell of it, because he had an excuse to do it, but that wasn’t what Draco was looking for. If Harry didn’t want something serious, Draco needed to ignore those green eyes and those shoulders, go home, and forget about all of this.

Decision made, he nodded to his reflection and unlocked the door. Go home and ignore Harry Potter. He could do that. He _could_.

Until he exited the room and walked straight into the wizard in question.

He was immediately immobilized. Harry was _right there,_ body pressed against Draco’s, and he couldn’t step away.

There were no words. Harry’s hands came up to cup his face, drawing him in as Draco wound his own hands around Harry’s neck. He could feel the moment when the magic released them, but Harry didn’t let go or step away, just shifted his balance so that he could more fully pull Draco against him, kissing him and _kissing him_ until there was no space left between them. Draco was lost in Harry, the slide of his lips, the tease of his tongue, all the little details that came alive in his senses when they were so close. Harry’s mouth tasted like wine spices and vanilla ice cream. He smelled like cologne and sweat, and the collar of his shirt was stiff and starched beneath soft, soft hair where Draco tried to slip his fingers underneath it.

Draco broke their kiss to bite at Harry’s ear, a sudden urge that felt essential to act upon, and with a few moans and gasps he found himself being walked backwards and through the bathroom door.

Harry paused when he had Draco against the counter. The door was still open, exposing them to any passersby, and Harry’s lips were bright kiss red.

“Do you want this?” Harry whispered, words fragile. He pressed their foreheads together, and Draco could feel his breath puffing across his lips as he spoke.

The smart thing to do would be to clarify, to push Harry out of his space and discuss this like adults. The sting of his Floo lighting up with call after call, not one of them from Harry, still burned. But right now, Draco wanted to be hedonistic, to ride the wave of knowing Harry wanted him too.

“Shut up,” he said, and pulled their mouths together.

He was dimly aware of the door slamming shut with the force of magic, of Harry’s wand clattering onto the sink counter as he dropped it, but he was more concerned with the strong hands sliding up his back, with the way Harry kissed along his jaw. It was messy and wet as Harry dragged his lips to Draco’s mouth, and Draco had his hands in Harry’s hair and was thinking _this couldn’t get better_ when Harry broke the kiss, met his eyes with pure fire, and grabbed his wand. He cast a Cushioning Charm on the floor by Draco’s feet and then got down on his knees.

Draco gasped.

Harry chuckled as he grabbed Draco’s hips and pushed his glasses onto his forehead.

The ceramic of the sinktop felt cold and unyielding under Draco’s fingers. Harry watched him as he kissed Draco’s thigh, and Draco cursed.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

Harry’s voice was low, throaty. “I certainly hope not.”

He pushed Draco’s jumper up, yanking his shirt out of his trousers, and Draco tipped his head back, canting his hips forward. Harry leaned in to kiss his hip, and Draco bit his lip, self-consciousness warring with lust. He felt the vibrations as Harry moaned, continuing to cover every inch of Draco’s torso in open-mouthed kisses. He couldn’t remember the last time a partner had paid so much attention to his stomach, but Harry seemed perfectly content. Draco’s erection was straining the front of his trousers, and there was no way Harry hadn’t noticed, especially when Draco tried to thrust closer, desperate for any kind of pressure, but Harry didn’t speed up – he slowed, even, as his lips met Draco’s waistband and he began to kiss his way across.

“Come on, Potter,” he said, and Harry chuckled as his fingers went to Draco’s belt. He didn’t really like the way his belly was on display as Harry tugged his trousers downwards, and the cool air of the bathroom made him shiver, but then Harry was mouthing at his cock through his pants and he was shivering for an entirely different reason.

“Fuck,” he gasped, throwing one hand up against the side wall as his whole body shuddered with _hotwarmgood_ and the promise of what was to come. Harry smirked as he hooked his fingers under Draco’s waistband and slid his pants down. Draco’s prick bobbed free, and Harry’s eyes sparkled as he kissed the head, then opened his mouth and took Draco in. Draco’s knees trembled.

“Merlin, Harry, Ha-ahhhhh.” Draco grabbed at the edge of the sink basin for balance as Harry curled his hands around Draco’s arse and began to bob in earnest. Thoughts ran through Draco’s mind – worrying about the unflattering position he was in, wondering if Harry was really enjoying this, musing about where Harry learned how to do that _thing_ with his tongue – but it soon became difficult to focus on anything but the man at his feet.

Harry paused for a moment to kiss and lick around Draco’s length. His eyes had fluttered shut, an expression of sheer enjoyment on his face, and Draco would have been embarrassed about how quickly he was going to come if he had any brain cells left. He only managed to stutter out a warning, reaching instinctively for Harry’s hair and clenching his fist as he realised he shouldn’t grab without asking, but then Harry guided Draco’s hand to his hair. Draco twisted and squeezed his hand in Harry’s messy hair, and Harry’s full-throated groan drew Draco’s orgasm from him.

He whined, grinding into Harry’s mouth and gasping his name, before Harry pulled off his softening cock and smiled at him, looking absolutely besotted. The sweet expression was at odds with the used red of his mouth and the shine of saliva on Draco’s prick, hanging inches from Harry’s face. Harry cast a _Scourgify_ and tucked Draco back into his pants, zipping his trousers and pressing a soft kiss to his tummy before he used the sink to leverage himself to his feet. The gesture was thoughtful and familiar, even sweet, and Draco didn’t know what to make of it.

Harry crowded him against the sink, looping one arm over his shoulders. “You taste amazing,” he whispered, voice husky and _fuck,_ Draco was weak for this man. He leaned in to kiss Harry with vigour, biting and nipping as Harry pressed close. It took him a moment to get Harry’s trousers open with his left hand, but soon enough he slipped his hand inside, Harry whispering expletives into his neck.

He was caught up in the pattern of Harry’s breathing and the restrained movement of Harry’s body, trying to catalogue what movements garnered which reactions, and barely noticed when Harry grabbed the shelf beside the sink to keep his balance. Draco _did_ notice when the entire shelf tipped off its brackets and crashed onto the counter, sending a collection of jars and bottles bouncing into the sink and across the floor.

The mayhem only increased when the bathroom door flew open with a _BANG!_

Draco found himself making horrified eye contact with Hugo Weasley.

“I knew it!” James Potter crowed, folding his arms across his chest. The crowd in the corridor was comprised of – of _too many_ of the children, and Draco’s face flamed as he realised that his hand was still clearly inside Harry’s trousers.

“I fucking knew it,” James repeated, “I said–”

That was all Draco heard, because Harry had fumbled for his wand and cast at the door again, slamming it shut and sealing off all sound.

Draco removed his hand.

“Well,” Harry said, taking a few steps back. “That’s not really how I had imagined this going.” He ran one hand through his hair, now more a mess than ever, and pushed his glasses down onto his nose.

Draco went to fold his hands together, thought better of it, and stopped. “Um,” he began. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t mean to have sex with you in Ron and Hermione’s loo,” Harry said. He laughed. “I especially didn’t mean for the kids to walk in on us doing it.”

“Oh.” Draco swallowed, suddenly nervous. He’d assumed from the way that Harry had pushed him into the bathroom that the feelings, the _want,_ was mutual, but maybe he shouldn’t have–

Harry cupped the side of Draco’s neck. “That came out wrong. I didn’t mean that I didn’t want to have sex with you – I _did._ I do. But I’d been intending to, I dunno, go out on another date first.”

“You wanted to go on another date?”

“I mean...yeah, of course I did. I was worried _you_ didn’t want to do it again.”

“Why on earth would you think that? I had a great time!”

“Well how was I supposed to know that – you never called!”

“You never called either!”

Harry dropped his face onto Draco’s shoulder, his body beginning to shake with laughter.

“What is so _funny_?”

Harry smiled. “Are you telling me I’ve been moping around for the past two weeks, wondering why you hadn’t owled about going out again, when all this time you were waiting for me to call you?”

Draco opened his mouth to reply, then started to giggle. “It seems like,” he said. “I guess we’re both being a little idiotic.”

“I could have told you that,” Harry said, and Draco smacked his shoulder.

“Git.” He crossed his arms, with a little difficulty given Harry’s close proximity. “I invited you out for the first date, which means it was clearly your turn to plan a second date.”

Harry flushed. “I guess I assumed you were going to be the one doing the...the date-planning.” He sighed. “Which now that I’m saying it, _does_ sound idiotic.”

Draco threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck, pulling their foreheads together. “I’m willing to overlook the last two weeks of miscommunication if you promise to plan our next two dates.”

“Next _two_ dates, huh?” Harry’s hands settled on Draco’s hips. “Are you so sure that there’s going to be a third date then?”

Draco raised his eyebrow. “Well, this bloke just sucked me off in the bathroom at a party, so I’m feeling pretty confident that he likes me. Even if he doesn’t understand basic date etiquette.”

That made Harry laugh. “He does like you.” He kissed Draco tenderly, in a way that ran shivers down his spine. “I guess we should probably go back to the party.”

“Much as I’d like to finish what I started, I fear what your children will do if we don’t make an appearance soon.”

“As if Scorpius isn’t involved in their plots,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “If you want to finish what you started...what if I said that our second date could be at my house tonight?”

“Then I’d think you were only trying to get in my trousers,” Draco said. Harry started to protest but he cut him off, grinning. “Harry, that doesn’t mean I’m saying no.”

There were thankfully no children lurking in the corridor, although they had all congregated in the corner of the sitting room. The news of Draco and Harry’s compromising position in the bathroom must have spread, because Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder as they walked by, giving Draco a glare that presumably meant Draco was to be threatened later.

Scorpius went bright red and tried unsuccessfully to hide behind Hugo when he saw them approaching, but James Potter grinned and waved at Harry.

“Dad! I’m so happy for you,” he said, throwing an arm over Harry’s shoulder. “Finally getting some. Also, Albus owes me five Galleons because he didn’t think the consentletoe thing would work and it _totally did._ ”

Harry’s face went through a brief but intense journey. “James, you should really – wait, what?” His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, the consentletoe thing?”

“Um…”

“We modified the consentletoe a little bit,” Lily said. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? Lily–”

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “It could have gone badly, et cetera et cetera, _clearly_ it didn’t, alright? We were all tired of you complaining about Mr Malfoy not having owled you yet, and Scorpius told us that he was doing the same thing. We figured you could use a little...push.”

There was a moment in which Draco worried that Harry might have it out with his children in the middle of the party – _Gryffindors,_ he thought – but Harry caught sight of Draco’s red face and sighed, grabbing his hand.

“We’re talking about this later, you lot,” he said, pulling Draco towards the door.

“Wait, where are you going? Why can’t we talk about it now?” James bellowed behind them, the laughter of the others following as Harry Summoned their coats.

Before he opened the door, Draco stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “Are you sure you want to leave like this? Everyone is going to talk.”

Harry quirked a smile. “I think they were already talking, Draco.”

He flushed. “I know, but…”

“Listen...I like you. Am I going to have a chat with my kids later about interfering in my love life and performing experimental magic? Definitely.” He laughed, squeezing Draco’s hand. “But I’m not embarrassed embarrassed about how they found out, or ashamed of other people knowing I like you, alright? And right now, I’d really like to take you home and finish what we started.” Harry pulled Draco close a pressed a kiss under his ear. “Or we could stay here and _really_ give them something to talk about.”

Draco laughed, looping his arm around Harry’s waist. “Alright, Mr Gryffindor, how about you take me home so we don’t scar any more of our children tonight.”

Harry smiled. “Whatever you say.”


End file.
